


A Lot Of Crap Is Blue, But Best Of All Is You

by GaHoolianGirl



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Best Friends, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post X-Men: Second Coming, The fic is more somber than the title might imply, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7416256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaHoolianGirl/pseuds/GaHoolianGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A hand reaches out to him with the intent to comfort. It’s a blue hand, with two long, blue fingers in place of the digits most people knew. Most people recoiled away from those hands. Why? Those hands were gentle; not innocent, but forgiving.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>His hands were the ones that should be feared. Soaked in blood, three metal claws hiding underneath his skin. His hands weren’t the “normal” hands. Four fingers and a thumb didn’t make a man’s hands.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Kurt’s hands were more human than Logan’s would ever be.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Kurt was more human than Logan would ever be.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lot Of Crap Is Blue, But Best Of All Is You

**Author's Note:**

> I do ship them, but as I wrote this, it flowed better as a friendship (I do hope to write something shippy one day). This is after Kurt's death in the Second Coming arc, but aside from mentioning Hope, it doesn't rely on you knowing that story. You only have to know that Kurt is dead.

_A hand reaches out to him with the intent to comfort. It’s a blue hand, with two long fingers in place of the digits most people knew. Most people recoiled away from those hands. Why? Those hands were gentle; not innocent, but forgiving._

_His hands were the ones that should be feared. Soaked in blood, three metal claws hiding underneath his skin. His hands weren’t the “normal” hands. Four fingers and a thumb didn’t make a man’s hands._

_Kurt’s hands were more human than Logan’s would ever be._

_Kurt was more human than Logan would ever be._

Logan awoke with a snarl, propelling himself into a sitting position. He had long thought he could suppress the guilty nightmares, but you can't hide from guilt that isn’t there. Instead of guilt, he felt a sort of bitter hollowness, a desire to scream, to change what could not be changed but having enough presence of mind to know Kurt wouldn’t want to send him on a path of aimless vengeance.

_Who am I to go around sayin’ what Kurt would want?_

Logan pushed his scruffy hair away from his face, letting out a deep sigh through his nose.

_Elf._

He barely remembered the time when he had started calling him that. It had been derogatory, he knew that much. He wasn’t enough of a bastard to call him demon, but he had to know where he stood.

But “elf”went from an insult to a term of endearment faster than he would have liked at the time. Soon “Fuzzy elf” passed the lips of other people; he wasn’t Kurt the misfit, he was the X-Men’s spirited elf, their sprite, their merrymaker. The elf was the only one who could lean on him, make him take a step back and use his damn brain instead if his blades. Like he said at Kurt’s funeral --- he was the only one who saw the _man_ before the _monster._

But he was gone.

There were still X-Men in the sense that there was a group of mutants who called themselves the X-Men, but they weren’t _THE X-Men._

The real X-Men died with Kurt.

Logan thought maybe he did too.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, scratching his chest more out of habit than the need to. He wanted to punch himself in the face for finding the blue moonlight streaming in throug his window reminiscent of Kurt.

 _It’s just the fucking moon. A lot of crap is blue,_ he scrunched his brows together, _But, Kurt was always at home in the shadows._

He switched his brain to autopilot, carrying his heavy body through the halls and out the front door. The breeze blew across his bare chest but he hardly registered it, scanning the green as his eyes adjusted to the night. He spotted his destination, late night, grief driven desire compelling him forward.

A tree.

Just a regular, goddamn tree.

But in his head, he could see Kurt hanging upside down by his tail on a high branch, like a mischevious bat, waving hello to him.

_“Hello, Logan.”_

“Kurt-”

_The same mirth filled laugh, “Not ‘elf’?”_

Logan shut his eyes tightly, but when he opened them, Dream Kurt was still there.

_“I’m not some image you can just will away, Mein Freund. I am here for a reason, and I’m not going away until you tell me.” With his usual grace, he swung up, perching on the branch like a cat._

“I don’t know what to tell you, bub. You’re dead and I’m sad,” he cracked his knuckles, “And pretty mad too.”

_“Who are you mad at?”_

The imaginary Kurt asked some very Kurt like stuff. “Summers. Hope. Everyone.”

_A raised eyebrow._

Logan knew exactly what he wanted him to say. Everyone always said it. It’s as cliché as you could get. And it was right.

“And I’m damn angry at myself. I wasn’t anywhere near you. I couldn’t have done shit. But I’m still angry at myself you’re gone,” he grit his teeth, “It’s selfish, but it was always you who would talk people through this shit. You were the one who could handle grief and pain and anguish. None of us no how to handle it when it’s YOU who's gone.”

_Kurt nodded for a moment. “You know what I would tell you.”_

“Well I aint you-”

_“That is true, but you knew me. I could hear you all talk about me over my body. So tell me Logan,” a pointy grin grew on his face, “What would I tell you?”_

“You’d say-” _What would the elf say?_ “You woulda said, ‘He’s been ready for this his whole life. He had his belief to comfort him, and he died doin’ something he believed in. Don’t make his sacrifice worthless by dwelling on it’.”

_“Hmmmm, not completely accurate, but you get the general idea,” he laughed when Logan growled at him, “See? You do understand me better than you give yourself credit for, Logan. Our friendship wasn’t all give, no receive, on my part.”_

_His face softened. “You too never saw me as a monster. Even when you were threatening me, you never did it with apprehension. And you also understood what it was to be alone, to not be able to hide what you were.”_

He huffed, “I’m makin’ you up. This could all be me hearing what I want to hear.”

_“It could be. I could be a vision from above. Or maybe, Logan, we were friends, and friends understand each other. When you joined the X-Men, you weren’t so alone as you thought you were.”_

Dream Kurt started to fade away with the rising sun, as if he was a being of shadow like the real Kurt.

_“You ought to sleep, my friend. As I like to think you think, ‘Everyday’s a battle, and you have to be ready for it’. And sleep is a requirement of readiness.”_

“You know me pretty well yourself, elf.”

_“Well, you do believe you are imagining me, so I’d have to.”_

“Kurt knew me better than my own head ever did.”

_One last cheeky grin spread on his face as he dissipated into the light of the early morning._

Logan looked up at the sky, whose light blue was just starting to creep in. This time, he wanted to punch himself a little less when he thought it reminded him of Kurt.•

**Author's Note:**

> I never expected to write Wolverine...ever, so tell me how I did. Also, Mein Freund is "my friend". I felt safe dropping that because he says it in like, all the comics.


End file.
